The Ace
by jennyfair
Summary: "…but remember we hold the ace! For if Miss Daaé sings, he is certain to attend…" Christine continues to sort through her twisting emotions after leaving the managers' office. A fill-in scene for the ALW musical, between Notes II and the Don Juan rehearsal.


_A/N: Inspired in part by Madrigal's story_ Untwisted _. My first new piece in about 6 years, so I hope you enjoy. Many thanks to sparklyscorpion for her encouragement, especially after all this time!_ _Credits go to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber._

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Invisible hands tugged at me from all sides as I fled the managers' office. My only thought was to free myself from their grip and find someplace safe where I could think for a moment. So few places felt safe, anymore... Even Raoul, who only meant to protect me, seemed far too willing to place me in harm's way. I cried out as solid fingers seized my wrist and pulled me into a dimly lit alcove.

"Christine, it's me." I recognized Meg's voice and nearly wept with relief. " _Maman_ told me to stay behind, but I listened at the door," she explained, releasing my wrist to clasp my hand in her own. "What are you going to do?" I recalled the other time she had held my hand all those months ago, telling me not to be afraid. Little did either of us know, then…

"I don't know" I answered lamely, peering over my shoulder to be sure that no one else had followed. "Do I even have a choice?" Her concerned eyes begged me to confide in her, but I was still desperate to get away. "I can't stay…Please, Meg, tell them you saw me go another way." She nodded in understanding and kissed each of my cheeks lightly before darting away, back towards the office. I watched until my friend disappeared around the corner before setting off in the other direction.

Finally alone, I pondered everything that had happened this morning. As Mme Giry read his letter, it was Erik's own voice that I had heard in my mind. It had stung more than I cared to admit when he spoke of me as if I were simply a promising member of the chorus, a poor student who had abandoned our lessons out of pride. As if Buquet were still alive, or the chandelier had never fallen! Even so, I had sensed the longing behind his bravado, and knew that it was not a student he desired...

I could feel his gaze upon me as I made my way through the corridors of the Opera. It burned, beckoned, and I knew where he was leading me. I feared it, a gateway to the underworld that would suck me down into the depths forever, yet I soon found myself at the door of my dressing-room. I lit the lamp and snapped the lock into place before sitting at the vanity. Tears pricked my eyes as I saw my father's portrait. _Oh, Papa..._

The first time I had heard the Angel of Music, I had been in a similar state—missing my father, feeling hopelessly lost. He had appeared when I most needed him. Comforted me, challenged me, coaxed me out of my grief and back into the world of the living. How cruel, then, that he was forced to dwell in darkness, that his genius was buried deep below the Opera instead of celebrated on its stage. And now that his work would at last be presented to the world above, how cruel of me to deny him the voice that he had inspired. But to sing was to sentence him to death…

I knew that Raoul would not understand my hesitation to take part in his plan, that in one breath I could brand my former teacher a murderer, and in the next refuse to condemn him. How could I agree to betray him, when even now I longed for the guidance of my Angel? But there was no such thing as the Angel of Music...there was only Erik.

Time had softened the memory of his twisted features, replacing horror with pity. It was not his face which frightened me, or my pride which kept me from him. No, it was the blood staining those cold, elegant hands. The knowledge that he had killed for no other reason than having been disobeyed. How, then, would my own disobedience be rewarded? Would I suffer the same fate as Desdemona, struck down by jealousy? Or as Aida, sealed in a tomb by her own choice? Both women suffered due to the deception of others.

I stood to face my reflection in the mirror. Less than an hour ago I had clung to Raoul, terrified at the thought of Erik taking me away. But if the glass slid aside and he came for me that very moment, would I resist? Or would I surrender, and allow the darkness to swallow me up? My heart pounded and I realized I was holding my breath, waiting for that heavenly voice to fill the room as it had so many times during our lessons...But he did not come. True to his word, he wished me to return of my own will. To choose.


End file.
